


S5 Ep 14: The Diamond of the Day, Part 3

by YvonneSilver



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Episode: s05e12 The Diamond of the Day, Episode: s05e12-13 The Diamond of the Day, Episode: s05e13 The Diamond of the Day, Gen, Gwaine Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 16:04:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1072428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YvonneSilver/pseuds/YvonneSilver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's funeral pyre had gone out, and Merlin was still standing at the edge of the lake. Now it was time to return to Camelot and tie up loose ends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	S5 Ep 14: The Diamond of the Day, Part 3

It felt like he had stood there for an eternity, when in reality not more than a few minutes might’ve passed. As he stood watching the lake he had expected to cry, or scream, or something, but all he felt was empty, with a calm he mistook for acceptance. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew the realisation hadn’t fully come to him yet, and when it would it would hit him hard. But for now he let the numbness fill his head as he watched the ripples in the lake. Eventually he tore his gaze away from the tower that would forever haunt his dreams and headed back into the forest.

Merlin had thought the dragon had carried them a long way, but before long he was back at the place where Morgana lay. Her eyes were closed, giving the impression that she was only sleeping. He should hate her, he knew he should hate her, but as he looked at her frail shape lying in the dead leaves, all he felt was pity. He wondered at how fragile she looked. Her face was sunken and hollow, and he could see the bones in the pale hand that rested on her midriff. It was as if her anger and rage had eaten away at her very body.

He looked around him. He couldn’t leave her out here to be eaten by wild animals. Even though this pale, emaciated figure with the wild mane of hair and the dark rings under her eyes hardly resembled the gentle, glowing young noblewoman he had once known, he remembered her as a friend, and this was not how he had wanted it to end.

 

All that was left of Morgana was skin and bones. Merlin could easily have picked her up and brought her to a place more befitting for a grave, but he felt he did not want to linger here any more than necessary. She would lay where she fell, swallowed up in the forest she had so often hidden away in, and he felt it was right that way. He hovered a hand above her body, and squeezed it into a fist. With a low rumbling, the earth fell beneath her as the ground around her came up, forming a low burial mound. Merlin clasped his hands together and bowed his head for moment of silence.

 

 

He was just about to leave when he heard a rustling in the leaves. Instinctively he grabbed for his sword and realised with a jolt he wasn’t carrying one. Then he realized with a twinge of grief that he wouldn’t need one; there was no longer someone around to witness his magic.

He lowered into fighting stance, his hands ready by his sides, and carefully crept in the direction he’d first heard something. All was quiet now, except for the soft crunch of the leaves under his own feet.

Suddenly, the bush to his right erupted into life, and for all his preparedness Merlin wasn’t quick enough. He felt the tip of a sword pressing against his throat. He locked eyes with the man threatening him and got ready to blast him off his feet, but held back at the last moment. He almost hadn’t recognized the face, so contorted was it with rage and worry. “Percival! It’s me, it’s Merlin. Lower your weapon!”

For a moment, they stood frozen, Percival panting heavily, sword at the ready. Then the the snarl on the knight’s face faded to a look of recognition and relief and he lowered his sword. “Merlin,” he breathed with disbelief, “where’s Arthur?”

The look of pain on Merlin’s face brought the frown on Percival’s straight back. Merlin wrung his hands, struggling for words. “I… I couldn’t…. He didn’t make it.”

Percival let out a roar of frustration and flung his sword into the ground at his side. “And Morgana?” He growled.

Merlin shook his head. “Dead. She never laid a finger on him.”

Percival grunted and lowered his head, staring at the sword beside his feet. But the pent-up anger and worry and the adrenaline still roaring through him weren’t so easily quieted. He roared again and swung his fists through the air at his invisible foes. Merlin waited quietly as the knight paced up and down in a helpless rage. Finally, Percival took a deep breath and stopped in front of Merlin again. “How?” Merlin looked confused. “How did you kill her? We attacked her and she could not be slain.”

Merlin hesitated, then realised the truth was the easiest answer. “Arthur’s sword. It was magical.” Percival nodded, recalling the miraculous event where his king had pulled it from the stone. Something dawned upon Merlin. “Percival? How did she know where to find us?”

Now it was the knight’s turn to look pained. “We were set out to ambush her. But she could not be killed. She took us.” He could not look Merlin in the eyes. “Gwaine…” He swallowed. “She broke him.” At this point his voice broke, but Merlin understood already, the hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach deepening. Percival took a deep breath and regained himself. “I broke free and followed her here.”

Merlin rubbed his forehead. He had already lost half his world today, and still things seemed to keep getting worse. The anguish was sweeping over him in paralyzing waves. He needed to do something. Just to move and get his mind in order. “Where is he?”

Percival looked ashamed. “I didn’t have time to bury him. He’s still…” He swallowed.

Merlin nodded again. “Take me there.”

 

They made their way through the woods in silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts. Percival held his sword at the ready, using it to aggressively push the undergrowth out of his way. Merlin followed quietly behind him, his eyes only on the moving feet of the man in front of him.

Even on foot, they made much better time than Merlin had with Arthur. When darkness fell, they ate a quiet meal, but at first light they were on their way again. It was already midday when Percival suddenly stopped. He laid a hand on one of the two trees and looked up to see the remains of the rope tied around them. “It’s just beyond those trees,” he nodded, but he made no move to go there. Merlin looked at the knight, seeing his anger and his grief, his shame and his guilt, and maybe, secretly, a little relief that he had been hanging here when out there Gwaine… Merlin pushed past him and stepped into the clearing. He stopped as suddenly as if someone had hit him. The pitiful sight of Gwaine’s body slumped forward between two wooden stakes drew the very breath from him and he could feel tears stinging behind his eyes again. He swallowed, and forced himself to move forward. The once so raucous knight was kneeled between the two stakes, hanging limply from the ropes tying his wrists. His long dark hair was swept away to one side, revealing a pale, tortured face. How could this have happened to Gwaine? He was so strong, so resilient, the most carefree and joyous knight.

Merlin kneeled down beside him, tears brimming in his eyes when he saw the angry red welt on the brave knights temple where the nathair had bitten into his mind. Helpless rage burned inside him as he looked up at his friends still face. He didn't heard Percival approach until he was standing right besideh him. He felt the knight’s large, warm hand on his shoulder just as he realised something.

“He’s still breathing!” Merlin shouted, jumping up. He spun round to Percival. “Percival! He's still alive! Give me your sword!” He didn’t wait for the stunned knight to react, but grabbed the dagger hanging from his belt.

“What? Wait! Merlin, no!” But before Percival could grasp what was going on Merlin had turned back to Gwaine. With two quick slices he slit through the ropes tying the man to the posts.

Gwaine slumped forward where Merlin clumsily half-caught him. “Gwaine!” He carefully turned him over to lay on his back. “Gwaine! Can you hear me?” He felt for a pulse, laid a hand on his friends forehead. “He’s unconscious, we’ve got to get him back to Gaius.” Merlin looked up at Percival, who still hadn’t moved. “Percival, come on! I can't carry him alone, and Morgana has taken the horses.” 

The mention of the witch’s name broke Percival from his confusion. He knelt down by Merlin’s side, leaning on his sword. “I’ll watch him. Go fetch help.”

 

Merlin returned with two knights, each leading an extra horse. Though the fast ride hardly gave him time to think, he could not outrun the image of Gwen’s face in his mind. In his haste to help Gwaine, all else had been pushed to the back of his mind. But when he had entered Camelot, she had been waiting for him on the front steps, and one look at the anguish in her face brought his own grief back in double force. He hadn’t needed to say anything. He’d shook his head and watched the horror crashing down on her, before she turned and fled into the castle. She had passed Gaius in the doorway as he headed out to support Merlin. He had already started to say something when Merlin had cut him off. “Not now, there’s no time.”

As Percival helped the two other knights get Gwaine on the extra horse, he worried how much time they had.

 

* * *

 

“I’m sorry Merlin, I’m afraid we’re too late.” Gaius sighed.

Merlin shook his head stubbornly. “No! We can’t be! You helped Elian, you must be able to do something for Gwaine.”

The old man looked up from his patient to the youth restlessly pacing his chambers. “This is different Merlin. Elian came to me mere minutes after what happened to him. I could still reach him.” He explained as calmly as he could. “The nathair has had a singularly strong effect on poor Gwaine, and it has been hours that he has endured the after-effects. There is nothing more we can do except ease his pain.”

“Well then there must be something I can do.” The young sorcerer grabbed a large book from the table, flopped down next to the bed and began to thumb through it.

“Merlin…” But the old man saw there was no getting through to him. With a sigh, he got up from the bedside and left him to his work.

 

He returned with the approaching dusk to the same scene. Gwaine lay motionless on the makeshift stretcher, his arms folded across his chest, as white and still as a corpse awaiting the funeral pyre. On the stool beside him, Merlin was quietly drowsing, exhausted from the days trials. The Book of Magic had slid half off his lap, with one hand still holding it, marking the page he had left off. Gaius set down the candle he had brought. Slinging one of Merlin’s arms over his shoulder, he pulled the youth to his feet.

Half-asleep, Merlin allowed himself to be taken to his own room. “I tried Gaius. I tried.”

“I know Merlin. Come, let’s get you to bed.”

 

* * *

The following morning, both men were subdued at breakfast. Merlin kept shooting sidelong glances at the figure on the stretcher, listening for any change in the shallow breathing, but there was no improvement since they’d found him. He’d read the Book from front to back, sought out anything he could find on the nathair, but found no cure. What if there was really nothing they could do to bring him back? What if the good-hearted scoundrel he’d known was already gone?

The old man watched the young one with a mixture of grief and pity and reminded himself that the youth sitting in front of him was not the same one as the one who had left him. He had gone through so much this past week. Lost his magic, a part of himself, and recaptured it. At the battle at Camlan he had won his greatest victory and suffered his greatest defeat. He had finally relieved himself of the burden of his secret, and then suffered the fear and disappointment as he fought to be accepted by his best friend. Gaius hadn’t asked yet what had happened in the forest, but he could see the effect on the young man before him. He saw defeat in the slump of his shoulders, anger in the hard set of his mouth, the emptiness in those staring eyes.

Merlin caught Gaius looking at him and returned to listlessly stirring his porridge. More as a reason to break the silence than to know the answer, he asked, “How’d you cure Elian?”

Gaius heaved a great sigh. “Merlin, there really is nothing more you can do. You have to sto...”

“Just.” Merlin interrupted with a choked voice. “Just tell me how it’s done.”

Gaius sighed again, but obliged. He knew he never could deny the young wizard anything, and especially not in this state. “The nathair is a dark creature. It is placed on the victims temple and from there it burrows its tendrils into the victims mind. Once there, it searches out the weakest spots and the worst memories and then repeats them over and over and over until it drives the victim mad. Once a person is in the nathairs hold, there is only one way to grant them mercy.” He glanced over at the unmoving figure on the bed.

“But... Ellian?” Merlin prompted, hopeful against better judgement.

“When Morgana used it on Ellian, she was still just testing what it could do, and the effect was weakened, but still devastating. He was lucky that he was brought to me straight after, while I could still reach him before the madness took hold. The key is to find the source of the pain, and then to remove the sting. There are some spells I could use, I’m sure you’ve come across them in the book, but it’s mostly words; encouraging, reassuring, comforting. Simply reaching out a hand to pull the victim up out of his misery.” He saw Merlin glance at Gwaine again. “Don’t do that to yourself Merlin.” He said softly. “You’ve got to let him go. I know you’ve tried all the spells you can and there is truly nothing more we can do.”

“But if we can talk to him.” Merlin pleaded.

Gaius’ look filled with sorrow. His heart broke for having to rob Merlin of his last hope. “Merlin. There is nothing. He cannot hear us, and even if he could, I would not know what to say. We do not even know what is torturing him.”

Suddenly Merlin’s face lit up. “But I can do that! I can find out what he’s seeing!”

Gaius dared not hope, but he had seen Merlin find his way out of hopeless situations before.“What?!”

Merlin leaned forward. “There’s a spell, to share minds with another. If I can get into his head and find what’s wrong, we can pull him out of it.”

Gaius’ look of hope turned into one of worry. “This is a man locked inside his own mind and you’re planning to lock yourself in there with him? That’s madness!”

Merlin stood up forcefully. “I’ve already lost one friend, I’m not going to lose another.”

Gaius’ look softened as the understanding dawned upon him. Just yesterday Merlin had lost his destiny and his best friend in one blow, and here a second friend lay lost to the world. He had nothing left to lose. The old man straightened up slowly to lay a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I understand Merlin. But you have to think this through. The nathair doesn’t just inflict pain, it tortures the very soul. What you encounter in Gwaine’s mind might be more than you bargained for. You may not be able to save him either.”

Merlin winced at that last word. He had done everything he could to save Arthur and failed. He would do anyting to avoid failing Gwaine. “I have to try.”

Gaius nodded. “Very well.” If there was anyone who should be able to do what was needed, it would be Merlin.

 

The young warlock placed a stool beside the knight’s bedside and sat down, his back straight, one hand on his knee, the other holding Gwaine’s. With a deep breath he summoned his magic. He could feel the warm glow starting in his chest, rising up through his shoulders, filling his head. As his vision began to colour gold, he directed the flow of magic down, through his arm, to his right hand, feeling the glow gather there between his palm and Gwaine’s. He began to say the words, and with every syllable he could feel how he was distancing himself from his body. He focused on the glowing gold river he felt running from his head to his hand. Soon, he only heard the words but couldn’t remember speaking them. Then he wasn’t even sure he was hearing them any more, just feeling them, flowing down, to somewhere, someone else.

 

* * *

 

This was the first time he had closed his eyes while using his magic. Golden light seared his vision and covered his world. He didn’t remember having lungs, but he was gasping for breath anyway. Then slowly, the light faded away, and Merlin found himself in an empty room. The last yellow colour flowed to the corners of his vision and disappeared, leaving the room cloaked in greys. He looked down at his hands, and they seemed alien to him. He moved his fingers and wiggled his toes, somehow unfamiliar with having them. It took him a moment to remember who he was, and what he was doing here. The moment he remembered, he spotted a figure in the corner of the room. A darker shadow in the room full of shadows, it was huddled against the wall with its back to the world. Merlin approached it carefully. It seemed to be sobbing quietly to itself, unaware of the young warlock approaching. “Gwaine?” Merlin asked tentatively.

 

Suddenly the figure turned and grabbed his wrists, staring at him with wild, black eyes. “I’ve failed. I’ve failed. My fault. All my fault.” Startled, Merlin took a step back. Only then did he recognize who was in front of him. His shrunken figure was cloaked in rags of different shades of grey, his eyes were dark shadowed with dark rings, in a gray face framed by wild black hair, but it was him, undoubtedly. “Gwaine!” Merlin exclaimed, relieved. He turned his hands so that he could grip his friends wrists in return. “Gwaine, it’s me, it’s Merlin!”

If he’d hoped for relief to come with recognition, he was disappointed. The lines in Gwaine’s face only deepened and he let out a wail of sorrow. “Merlin. It’s my fault. I told her. I couldn’t do it. I had to run.”

A vision of Arthur’s pale face as he lay in his funeral boat flashed before Merlin’s eyes, but he pushed it away, shaking his head. He forced himself to look into Gwaine’s tortured eyes. “Gwaine, listen to me. It’s important that you listen to me now.” He stepped forward, and Gwaine took a step back. “It’s not. Gwaine, it’s not your fault.”

“It’s always my fault, I always abandon them, I always leave.” Gwaine wailed.

Merlin stepped forward again, and Gwaine retreated. “You’ve got to listen to me. You’ve got to stop telling yourself that. You’re trapped, but if you listen to me I can get you out.”

Gwaine wailed again, and took another step back, pulling Merlin along. “I got out. I got out, and I left them. I leave them behind.”

Merlin desperately shook his friend. “This isn’t you talking. This is the nathair. This is Morgana’s work.” Gwaine cried out at her name, but Merlin kept going. “We have to leave. Now.”

 

Gwaine looked at him with an unending sadness in his black eyes and gripped the young man's wrists a little harder. “I left. I always leave. And now I’ll never leave again.” He stepped back, and pulled Merlin forward. Suddenly Merlin realised he was standing in a lake. The black water was already lapping at his midriff. Gwaine held both his wrists and relentlessly pulled him deeper and deeper. “I abandoned them. I abandoned all of them Merlin. I run and run, but they catch me every time. There’s nowhere to run to anymore.” His eyes and mouth were black as the water that flowed around the two of them. Thick, black water  inched higher with every step.

“Gwaine!” Merlin shouted. “Gwaine, stop! We have to get back.” He tried to pull him away, but Gwaine was stronger and pulled him forward another step. “Gwaine, listen to me!” He cried desperately. “ This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. You’ve got to listen to me.” The slow flowing water edged up to his chest by now.

“I abandoned them Merlin. I left. I can’t look behind me, because they’re there. Always behind me.” His dark eyes pleaded, begged for understanding, for forgiveness, for release.

‘He can’t hear me.’ Merlin realised. ‘Not with my voice.’ He took a deep breath and reached for his magic, that feeling deep inside of him, that familiar glow that had always been a part of him. He drew in more air and searched for the power in him.

There was nothing there. ‘This is not my body’ Merlin realised. The panic rose in him with the rising water. He had to find his body. He was nothing without his magic.

He tugged at Gwaine again, but the knight’s grip was unyielding. Around them the darkness swirled and with another start of fear he realised he didn’t know where the shore was anymore. Above Gwaine’s helpless wailing and the hiss of the water around him, he heard his heart beat a panicked rhythm. The thick water changed again, becoming a single, endless black snake, twisting around his body, around his arms, over his shoulders. Gwaine was screaming as the snake covered him, but his hold on Merlins wrists didn’t slacken and he could not wrench free. He had searched, but there was nothing there. The snake twisted a loop around his shoulders, another over his head. Merlin took a last deep breath and closed his eyes.

 

* * *

There was a soft knock on the door. With a start, Gaius sat upright. He’d dozed off at the table. He hurried over to the door, and slowly opened it a crack. Outside stood Gwen. She was still wearing the stained red dress, and her eyes were red and puffy, but there was determination in them, and despite her dishevelled look she kept her queenly bearing. But Gaius was an old man, and he’d seen enough to recognise when someone put up a facade. He noticed her wringing hands and how she bit her lip before she started talking and knew how much she was hurting.

“Gaius.” She said curtly, her voice still raw from crying. “Can I speak to Merlin?”

Gaius held the door open only a crack as he looked over his shoulder to where Merlin was still sitting, motionless beside Gwaine’s bedside. He turned back to Guinevere, who had been trying to look over his shoulder and now looked anxiously at him. “He is still attending Gwaine, my lady. I’m afraid he cannot speak to you now.”

Gwen’s composure broke. Her bottom lip quivered as she struggled to hold back her tears. There was nothing queenly left as the young widow pleaded with the physician. “Please Gaius. I need to know what happened. I need to make some kind of sense of...” She sniffed and seemed to remember herself. Furiously she wiped at her eyes. She took a deep breath and righted herself, “I wish to speak to Merlin.”

Gaius gave her a look filled with pity. He felt so sorry for this poor young woman. He wished there was something he could tell her to ease her loss. But Merlin hadn’t even spoken to him yet, and he could not disturb the youth now; he wasn't even sure that he could reach him. He laid a comforting hand on Gwen’s arm, but she angrily shrugged it off. “Please, my lady. Give him some time.” For a moment she seemed to consider forcing her way in. Then she squared her shoulders, gave him a curt nod, and walked away. He closed the door and turned to look at the two men in the room, joined by the hands and on a whole other level too. He leaned against the closed door and heaved a heavy sigh.

 

* * *

 

The darkness was complete. Blackness pressing in from all sides like an almost tangible force. The room could be as large as a ballroom or as tiny as a cell, he couldn’t know the difference. He knew he could make light at any time if he chose to. He gripped an unlit torch in one hand, and with only a word he could light it. But then he would be able to see. Then he would know. He would see their faces, staring blankly up at him, accusing him. He could feel them in the darkness around him, just close enough not to touch. If he reached out he could grab them, pull them back to him, but there was only emptiness when he moved. Emptiness and darkness. His eyes hurt from spreading open so wide and seeing nothing. He closed his eyes for a moment, it made no difference.

Suddenly he heard something behind him. He swiveled, swinging the unlit torch, but it whooshed through empty air. A scrabbling sound, from the right this time. He swung at it again, but in the pitch-black he could not find anything. “No light”, he reminded himself, “don’t look.” Seeing would make it real. The light would kill them.

Something slithered at his feet. He leapt backwards, heart thumping violently. He opened his eyes again, but it made no difference. Standing still as a stone, he listened intently for another sound, but there was only his own intensified breathing. He couldn’t, he couldn’t do this. This pitch-black darkness, not knowing where he was or what was out there. “Just for a moment”, he whispered to himself. “Just to see.”

 

A grey light flooded the small room. It was a cellar, or maybe a dungeon cell, probably somewhere deep underneath the castle. But his gaze was drawn immediately to the bodies at the centre of the room. The sight of them drained all hope from him. He let out a terrible wail that echoed off the old walls but did nothing to alleviate the growing despair building up inside of him. The grief filled him with an almost physical pain, as though part of him was dying. There was a knot in his stomach and a burning behind his eyes.

Slowly, he sagged down to his knees, his body shaking. He could feel tears running down his face, and he didn’t even try to stop them. His vision blurred, but he knew who lay there. Arthur. His mother. His sister. He had failed in keeping them safe. He had abandoned each of them in turn, and now their deaths were on his hands. If he couldn't even keep them safe, what was the point of his useless life? All that was left to do was to kneel here beside them and wait to die.

 

* * *

 With a crackle the flame sparked to life. Using the first candle, Gaius lit the other candles in the room to drive off the settling dark. If only the shadow of worry was so easily dispelled. He stopped behind Merlin and looked over his shoulder at Gwaine. He was still as deathly pale as he'd been this morning, and neither of them showed any sign of regaining consciousness. They hadn’t moved or made a sound all through the day.

Maybe he shouldn't have let Merlin go through with this mad plan. He should've tried to stop him. This magic was too strong, especially after everything he'd already been through. What if he'd lost them both now?

Gaius shook his head. He mustn’t think like that. Merlin always came back, had always come back. He’d pull through this time. He just had to believe that. He shuffled forward and lay a heavy hand on the young man's shoulder.

 

* * *

A sharp pain shot through his shoulder, followed by a warm, burning sensation. Slowly, he brought his hand up to where the burning started, and the moment his fingers brushed his shoulders the heat passed over to them too. He looked down on his hand and saw that it was glowing, yellow threads of light weaving just beneath his skin. A part of him thought that it was crazy, that what he was seeing couldn’t be real. But a part of him felt that this inner glow was the most real thing in the room.

When he looked up, the body in front of him didn’t seem real anymore. She was just a mirage to him now. But when he looked to the left, he saw Arthur’s body still there, still just as real. He wanted to reach out, to touch him with the glowing light, but he knew he couldn’t. He turned to the right, and saw that his sister's body was merely a mirage too. Wait. Did he even have a sister? There were conflicting feelings in him. He was sure he had a sister. And he was sure he didn’t have a sister. Then it hit him. She was Gwaine’s sister. And he was not Gwaine.

 

With that realisation, he felt the glowing heat in him begin to spread. He looked at his mother and knew that she wasn’t actually his mother. Very slowly, taking care not to look at Arthur again, he got up. And as he did so, he left a shadow behind. No, not a shadow. Gwaine.

The spell had been even more powerful than Merlin had imagined. For a moment, they had really been one. But for some reason the connection was breaking. He was still in Gwaine's mind, but on the outskirts. Merlin knew he wouldn't have much time.

The warlock stepped forward and laid a hand on the kneeling mans shoulder. “Gwaine. None of this is real.” The man in front of him moaned without turning around. The glowing feeling grew in Merlin's chest, inflating like a bubble inside him. He felt ready to float away. Stubbornly, he shook his head. He couldn’t leave yet, not without Gwaine.

“Gwaine please. Please let me take you with me. Let me help you.” Gwaine looked up at him with empty eyes. Merlin felt the invisible force pulling him away from this place, away from his friend. Merlin felt his feet leave the ground; he was actually floating now. He gripped his friend’s shoulder. “Please Gwaine, take my hand.” But the knight didn’t move, as if his hopelessness had paralysed him. Suddenly Merlin knew what to say. “They’re not dead! Gwaine, they’re not dead!” He shouted down. “You can still save them, but you have to hold on!”

The voice that answered him was filled with endless tiredness. “Please. Please. I don’t want... I don’t want to run anymore.”  
Merlin felt his fingers slipping.

 

* * *

With a start Merlin sat up, almost knocking into Gaius, who was leaning over him. He fell back again, gasping for breath. His head felt like something had exploded inside it and it took him a moment to get his bearings. He was on the floor of the physicians room; apparently he had fallen off the stool. Gaius was standing over him, looking worried. “Merlin. Are you alright?”

“No. Yes. Ah!” He sat up again, pressed his hand against his temple and tried to make the room stop spinning. “I’m here.” He told Gaius, which was as close to the truth as he could get. Besides, it wasn't himself he was worried about.

“Where’s Gwaine?” Merlin asked, looking around. His eyes landed on the stretcher. Gwaine was still there, motionless. “No, no.” Merlin whispered in disbelief. He turned to Gaius. “I talked to him. I pulled him out.” he pleaded.

 

The physician’s soft voice was filled with sorrow. “I’m sorry Merlin. There’s been no change.”

At that exact moment Gwaine suddenly sat up, startling Gaius so much he almost fell over. “Gwaine!” Merlin cried triumphantly. The knight was gasping for breath, coughing and wheezing. Suddenly he started to violently wave his arms, scratching at his temple as if to pull away the nathair that was no longer there.

“Gwaine.” Gaius said. “Gwaine, calm down.” Gaius shuffled over and pulled the man’s hands away from his face. “It’s alright Gwaine. It’s over.”

Gwaine looked up at him, a frantic look in his eyes. It took him a moment to recognise who he was. “Gaius?”

“Yes. Here.” Gaius let go of his hands to grab a bowl of something on the table. “Drink this. It’ll help you feel better.” The knight took the bowl from his hands and drained it like a man who hadn’t seen water in days. “You need to rest now. You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”

“Yes. No.” Gwaine looked around him, confused. “No. I have to go.”

The knight was already halfway out of bed when Gaius pushed him back onto the bed. “You’re staying put. Physicians orders.”

Gwaine looked up at him and seemed to come to his senses. “Yes. You’re right.” He pulled the blanket back over his legs.

Gaius nodded, content. “What you need now is rest.”

 

As Gwaine's eyes closed, Merlin stumbled to his feet. His body felt strange to him, his legs tingling and only just able to carry his weight. Gaius gave him a stern look.

"And where do you think you're going? It's off to bed for you too young man."

Merlin protested half-heartedly, but eventually allowed Gaius to bustle him out to his own room. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

 

* * *

 

Merlin slept all through the following day and awoke groggy and disoriented. Then he remembered. The battle. The flight. Morgana. Arthur.

He almost wished he hadn't woken up. 

Another memory caused him to sit up with a jolt. Gwaine. All other thought was pushed from his mind by the worry over his friend. He dressed hurriedly and stumbled out the door.

 

Merlin let out a sigh of relief. Gwaine was awake, propped up against a couple of pillows on the hospital bed. He looked like a hollowed out version of himself, but he was alive. Gaius was by his side, applying some kind of ointment to the red welt on the knight's temple.

When the knight spotted Merlin in the doorway, he gently tapped Gaius' hand. There was a smile on his face. A shadow of his former grin, but still, a smile. “You know, what I could really use Gaius?" he told the old man. "I could really use a drink.”

Gaius' eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Gwaine, you can’t be serious.”

“Gaius, I have just awoken from the worst nightmare ever. I think I deserve a drink. In fact, I think Merlin deserves one too.” 

Gaius turned round and saw Merlin, quietly keeping his distance. He looked from one to the other. “Ah. Yes. I see. Well, I’ll see what I can do.” And with that, Gaius bustled out of the room.

 

As the door fell closed, Merlin flopped down on the stool beside Gwaine’s bed and smiled at its occupant. “How are you feeling?”

Gwaine smiled his half-smile again. “Like death warmed over. How about you?”

Merlin smiled awkwardly. “Like I should sleep for another week.”

Gwaine nodded and looked away for a moment. Merlin's heart was racing. How much did Gwaine remember of what happened?

“So… you did… you were…” Gwaine gestured at his head. Merlin nodded. “And you’re a …” He gestured at Merlin.

“Yeah.” Merlin grinned sheepishly, but the knight didn't return the smile.

“Okay.” Gwaine took a deep breath and looked away again.

Merlin looked at him nervously, looking for a sign of what he was thinking. ‘Please say something’, he thought. But the silence stretched on. Finally, Merlin prompted him, “Do you want to, talk about it?”

Gwaine looked at him, a strange mixture of sad confusion in his eyes. “I can't really blame you for using magic when you used it to save my life, but I.. I’m going to need a moment.”

Merlin nodded. Gwaine had never seemed to be on the frontline in the war against magic, but he hadn't exactly opposed it either.

 

Finally Gwaine turned back to him, a tortured look in his eyes. His words seemed to come with difficulty but he had to ask. “When we were… there. You said… You told me they weren’t dead.”

“You don’t know.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

Now the words came. It seemed that it was a relief for Gwaine to finally talk about what had bothered him for years. “After my father was killed, our house fell into ruin. We could barely sustain ourselves. My mother took his death hard, and my sister took over the household and cared for her. But I… I was just so angry. At the king, for going to war. At my father, for following him. At everyone. And one day I decided I couldn’t live in that place anymore, with it’s memories and it’s mourning. And I packed up my things and left.”

“And you’ve been traveling ever since.”

Gwaine nodded. “Camelot is the first place I’ve felt at home again. In Arthur I found a leader to follow once more, a purpose worth staying for. But I’ve always worried what became of home…” His voice trailed off, but Merlin nodded that he understood. He’d seen the perverted visions the nathair had created. The men sat in silence for a while, each in their own thoughts. It was Gwaine who broke the silence again. “I have to go find them.”

Merlin nodded, but Gwaine saw the sadness. He tried to make light of the situation and gave his friend a light punch to his shoulder. “You’re not thinking you’re going to miss me, right,” he joked, but seeing how serious Merlin was, he sighed. “I am grateful for what you have done for me Merlin. But I have to find them.”

“No, I know,” Merlin cut him off, “it’s your family. I’d do the same.” Merlin smiled and clapped a hand on the knights shoulder. But he couldn’t help thinking how quiet it would be if Gwaine left too.

 

* * *

Gwaine recovered quickly. Gaius was hesitant to let him ride, but there was no stopping the hard-headed knight. When Merlin came out to the courtyard to see him off, he found there really was nothing much left to say. Gwaine finished tying his pack to his horse and turned to face the young sorcerer. Though his thick black hair hid most of the scar on his temple, nothing could hide the new sorrow in his eyes, or the deepened lines around them. But his usual goofy grin was back, defying his worries about the journey and his destination. He grabbed Merlins right hand and clapped him on the back with his left. “Look after yourself Merlin.” Merlin nodded, as Gwaine vaulted onto his horse. After one last look at the castle, he turned and rode off, not looking back.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for, friend.” Merlin said softly.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually not entirely happy with this story, but I've run out of ways to rewrite it. Any tips or comments are very much appreciated!


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